Sam Evans and the Attempted Make Out
by Harikari
Summary: Sam kisses Kurt. Not the other way around.


**Title:** Sam Evans and the Attempted Make Out [1/2]  
**Author:** Harikari  
**Pairing:** Sam/Kurt  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count: **1068  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own em'. Written for fun, not profit.  
**Warnings: **Angst, underage drinking, fluff, strong language, mild violence, speculation, spoilers through 2x04, etc.

**Summary: **Sam kisses Kurt. Not the other way around.

Sam is sitting on the plush couch holding a cup of spiked punch. His sneakers are propped up on the coffee table in front of him, the music is playing so loudly that his ears feel itchy and directly across from him - on the other side of the coffee table - Santana and Brittany have managed to squeeze onto the recliner together and are making out.

Kurt is next to him on the couch. Well, not _right_ next to him. The countertenor is actually sitting as far away from Sam as he can be while still occupying the piece of furniture. He has his legs crossed and his back is straight and he's...filing his nails.

_Why is he filing his nails at a party?_ Sam frowns and looks around. Despite the music nobody is dancing or trying to sing along; Rachel is rifling through the stack of CDs piled next to the stereo, Finn his looming behind his girlfriend and gripping two plastic cups, Tina and Mercedes and Quinn have all made their way into the kitchen and Puck and Mike and Artie...have disappeared somewhere. Maybe they're in the kitchen, too?

Confused, Sam turns back to Kurt. Because. Yeah. This party isn't the greatest (_he's_ only here because Finn had insisted it was important to bond with the rest of the club and had practically shoved him into his truck before giving him a ride over) but that's no reason for Kurt to be sitting quietly on the couch doing his nails. He should be with the girls in the kitchen or possibly fighting with Rachel over what to listen to.

Sam removes his sneakers from the table and replaces them with his punch. Then he reaches to tap the countertenor on the shoulder with one finger. "Hey," he says over the blaring music.

At the tap and the sound of his voice Kurt stops filing and looks up. "Yes?"

"Are you..." The quarterback trails off, shifts under the smaller teenager's gaze. "Why aren't you, you know, _partying_?"

Kurt sort of half smirks and shrugs. "Santana and I are the designated drivers."

Surprised, Sam shoots a look at the two cheerleaders still necking across from them. He sees no punch, no alcohol anywhere near the two girls.

Which means Santana is making out with Brittany sober and no one in glee club is fazed by it...

_Huh._

The music stops suddenly. Quinn laughs from somewhere in the kitchen and Sam tenses. He and the blond cheerleader had been a couple for a grand total of two weeks before she broke it off. Apparently she was still really into Puck and wanted to try to make things work with the guy. Sam understands; Puckerman is the father of the baby Quinn had given up, a big deal. But understanding doesn't stop Sam from hurting. He thinks he and Quinn could have had an awesome relationship.

_She has such pretty eyes..._

"What?" asks Kurt in his nice, high voice. Sam blinks and realizes he's staring at the countertenor. "What is it?"

Sam doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then, "You have nice eyes, too." It's true. Sam can't tell if they're blue or green and he _likes_ that. A lot.

Kurt frowns and moves to shove the nail file into the side pouch of a little blue bag sitting on top of the coffee table (the quarterback isn't sure if it belongs to one of the girls or Kurt himself and he isn't going to ask). "Thanks," he says sharply.

The smaller teenager sounds angry.

"I'm serious," Sam assures him and slides closer. He swings an arm over the other boy's shoulders.

Kurt tenses but doesn't shrug him off or move away. "Sam," he starts and pauses for a moment before opening his mouth to say more.

Sam leans in and kisses him. Their teeth make a little _click_ noise and he adjusts the angle and then he's putting firm pressure on the moist lips beneath his own.

Kurt makes a small noise in his throat and pulls back but Sam follows him; moves with him until their practically sprawled across the couch, Sam hovering over the countertenor. "You smell really good," says Sam. They're close enough that Sam's lips brush Kurt's neck with every word. He moves in for another kiss-

The smaller teenager puts both of his hands on the quarterback's chest and pushes. "Get _off_," he says and his voice goes even higher than usual on the 'off'.

Alarmed, Sam scrambles back and away from the countertenor. "What? What's wrong?"

"_What?_ You're asking me..." Kurt sits up and smooths his clothes. He takes a deep breath as if to calm himself. "Sam, that was a stupid thing to do for a lot of reasons. You told me you weren't gay and you never mentioned anything about being bisexual, you and Quinn just broke up _and_ you're at least a little bit drunk right now. I know there isn't a lot of logical, methodical thinking going on in your mind right now but..."

He trails off, goes quiet for a moment. Sam tries to think of something to say, tries to apologize or deny or something but his mind is fuzzy and slow.

"I can understand being scared to come out, Sam. I've denied being gay before myself. But I am _not_ okay with you trying to make out with me at a party so that you can satisfy your _gay urge_ and then later claim the alcohol made you do it or that you don't even remember it." He stands and grabs the little bag. "Got it? Good."

Kurt walks away. He disappears into the kitchen and the music starts up again (_Just Dance_ by Lady Gaga is booming through the speakers).

Sam suddenly feels sick. He sighs, runs fingers through his hair and stands. He strides through the living room to the bathroom. He splashes water onto his face and takes a few deep breaths and considers how risky breaking up Santana's make out session with Brittany to ask her for an early ride home would be.

Sam opens the bathroom door and steps out into the hallway. Finn is waiting for him. The tall teenager's arms are crossed over his chest and Rachel is nowhere in sight.

"I need to talk to you," he says and Sam notices the former quarterback is glaring.


End file.
